Page 5 of Chieftain
"We just offloaded the last batch of prisoners," Hakkar grumbled. Seeing the over five hundred slavers shipped to Alliance prisons on the same battlecruiser made his job as a healer less hectic. He spent more time on the prison deck patching up fighting convicts than on my crew.
"Why do we wait?" Bartuk glanced over from the communications station. "Would it not be more advantageous to attack while the Trogvyk remained in Earth's orbit to assure success."
"For us, yes," Charick laid a hand on the young warrior's shoulder. "But the people of the Earth do not yet know of ourexistence. Humans still believe spaceships and, by extension, beings like us are a thing of fantasy."
"Shazam," Daicon muttered one of his favorite human quotes. Like most of our Earth knowledge, his favorite vernacular was gleaned from radio waves and television transmissions expanding outward from Earth at the speed of light.
"Trogvyk ship is coming into range of Mars now, Chieftain," Jutuk announced.
I stood, feeling my blood pump with excitement. "Engage shielding. When the Trogvyk ship comes into range, disable their systems with the pulse before locking on with the tractor beam." All Vaktaire battle cruisers came equipped with an electromagnetic pulse that could target the enemy, while the Bardaga stayed protected with shielding. "Hakkar, select a dozen of your best warriors and meet me at the dock."
"You're joining the boarding party?" Charick questioned with a sly smile.
"I will never ask my warriors to face a danger I would not face with them." I slapped my oldest friend on the back. "Besides, you'll need someone to guard your ass."
"Touché." Charick chuckled.
My Sage carried few weapons, and his long cloak was explicitly designed to mimic cleric robes favored by Earth's holy men. Charick was the one I trusted to interface with the humans, so his appearance needed to be as non-threatening as possible.
I, on the other hand, favored blades over a gun. I gave Jutuk control of the ship and stalked toward my quarters to gear up. My blood pumped, and my heart hammered with astrange excitement. I'd boarded at least as many enemy ships in the last one hundred years. I was a hardened warrior, bred to battle and trained to lead. My mind knew this would be like any other enemy boarding, less dangerous as this Trogvyk ship was a smaller stealth cruiser and could carry few crew members. But my body, my vika—my heart—beat as though headed into battle.
Chapter 3
Emmy
My first thought was that one of the girls got turned around in the night and mistook my mouth for a bathroom.
The bitterness on my tongue was dry, stinging the membranes, and I gagged, but my stomach only gave an empty lurch.
My eyelids fluttered, aching at the brightness that swallowed me—like I existed in the light hovering over our campsite, untethered to the Earth. But I wasn't at the camp. The surface on which I lay was slick, hard, and cold. My body felt strange. There was no pain, just an odd feeling akin to spinning really fast and jerking to an immediate stop. Something was wrong—although I couldn't pinpoint any particular discomfort.
Forcing my eyelids open, I blinked away profuse moisture while trying to focus. Everything was white—stark, dazzling white. It made my skin even paler, and the hair that hung over my shoulder….
Wait.
What?
Lying on my side, I lifted a hand, giving the coppery curls flowing over my shoulder a sharp tug, immediately feeling the ache on my scalp.
What the actual fuck?
My hair hadn't been this long since I was in my twenties. I still had curls, but I wore my hair cropped at my shoulders since my first son was born. Not to mention my original rich red color faded ages ago into a rosy blonde. I twisted the curl around my hand…
My hand!
Sitting upright, I brought the back of my hands close to my face, noticing the paleness of my skin wasn't from the light but from the skin itself. The age spots and crepey texture had disappeared, and my hands looked as plump and rosy as a baby's ass.
What the fuck?
Curiosity hampered the general ickiness rolling around my stomach, and I surveyed my surroundings, looking for a mirror.
The room was all white, save for what looked like silver metal tape along the edges of the floor and walls. There was an odd-looking bowl and faucet, plus what appeared to be a twin bed—just a shelf jutting outward from the wall with a thin pad on top. I didn't see a door.
Pushing to my feet, I took stock of my body as best as possible without a mirror. My hiking outfit—Levi's, t-shirt, and flannel vest were replaced by a pair of loose pants and a shirt. I would have thought they were surgical scrubs, save that the fabric looked and felt like shimmery tan silk.
My legs and feet held the same youthful glow as my arms. Standing, I could gauge the entire length of my hair, which fell to the middle of my back. Not to mention climbing to my feet wasn't accompanied by the usual arthritic aches and twinges.
Holy shit!
